Features
The Tamil presence in Sinhala cinema
(Excerpted from Shared Encounters in Myanmar, Sri Lanka and Thailand – International Centre for Ethnic Studies 2024)
by Hasini Haputhanthri
An oft-quoted saying of S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike, former premier of Ceylon who came to power in 1956 upon a wave of nationalism goes: “I have never found anything to excite the people in quite the way this language issue does”. The implication was that language was a deeply divisive issue in Ceylon. However, when it came to cinema, at least in the early years, “this language issue” was not a barrier for collaboration.
In the 1930s and the early 40s, before the advent of Sinhala talkies, Tamil films were well liked and received by Sinhala audiences. For example, the South Indian blockbuster, Chintamani (1937) was an instant hit in Ceylon. Colombo-based film critic, Lucian Rajakarunanayake reminisces in the Daily News (1 June 2010):
“The Bioscope, as films were known at the time, was screened in Plaza Cinema Wellawatta. I recall waiting in the long queue with my aunts to whom an evening of watching the bioscope was a very special occasion…Chintamani ran nearly for six months or more in Colombo and it was house full all the while. Businessmen were cashing in on the runaway popularity with the Chintamani name being used for match-boxes, candles and joss-sticks. Many children were given the name too, by parents who must have seen the film several times and were singing and humming the songs…”
Neighbors to Collaborators
The early Sinhala talkies carried a heavy South Indian influence and went on to perform well at the box office. Many directors and producers of Sinhala films were Tamil or South Indian. S.M. Nayagam, the producer of Kadawunu Poronduwa was a Tamil hailing from Madras Presidency (now Madurai). Nayagam was not a stranger to Ceylon. In fact, he was already invested in the island through his business ventures. (Apart from films, Nayagam also made bars of soap!)
Since early production work happened in South Indian studios, Nayagam ferried the whole cast of Kadawunu Poronduwa, Rukmani Devi, the brothers B.A.W. Jayamanne and Eddie Jayamanne, and the Minerva Theatre Group across the strait over to India. The film was directed by Jyotish Singh, a Bengali already working in the Tamil film industry. The music was directed by Narayana Aiyar, a musician of repute from Tamil Nadu.
Gujarati director V.N. Javeri, A.B. Raj who directed six Sinhala films, T.R. Sundaram, L.S. Ramachandran, A.S. Nagarajan of Mathalan fame were all directors of Indian origin who worked on Sinhala talkies. Mathalan ran for 90 days when it was first released in 1955 and for 118 days when it was re-screened in 1973, a record in local cinema. Similar to many other films of the era it was a copy of a Tamil film based on a folktale from Tanjore. It is claimed that a similar folk tale exists in Ceylon as well, pointing to the inextricable cultural common ground between South India and Ceylon. Audiences focused on these cultural ‘connectors’, more than they did on the ‘dividers’, as they embraced the song, dance and high drama. Perhaps it can also be inferred that cinema provided an escape from a divided reality.
Cinema Made by Everyone for Everyone
The contributions of the Muslim community to film, especially film music, is worthy of a movie of its own. Abdul Aziz of Kollupitiya, Mohamad Ghouse of Grandpass, Ismail Rauther of Moor Street, and Lakshmi Bhai, an idol of Nurti theater in the 30s and 40s, all contributed their musical talents. After the decline of Nurti theater, prominent artistes and music directors such as Ghouse Master, Peer Mohamed, Mohideen Baig and Abdul Haq defined and pioneered Sri Lankan music and cinema together with their Sinhala protégées and contemporaries including Amaradeva from the early 1930s to mid-60s.
Muslim musicians and singers, notably Mohamad Sali, Ibrahim Sali, A.J. Karim, M.A. Latif and K.M.A. Zawahir, also contributed significantly to radio broadcasting, serving in the orchestras of the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation (SLBC). Very few are aware of Gnai Seenar Bangsajayah, popularly known as G.S.B. Rani, who is actually of Malay origins hailing from Badulla and gifted the island with unforgettable love songs.
To date, devotional songs such as ‘Buddham Saranam Gachchami’ sung by Mohideen Baig in qawwali style shape the Buddhist imagination and sentiment. Lakshmi Bhai’s ‘Pita Deepa Desha Jayagaththa, Aadi Sinhalun’ evokes a sense of patriotism many can relate to, despite the lyrics specifying the Sinhalese as those who won the world in the past.
The first director of Ceylon Tamil origin was T. Somasekaran whose box office hit Sujatha (1953) brought in a new age in film marketing. Another famous father-and-son duo from Jaffna were W.M.S. Tampoe and Robin Tampoe who directed many famous Sinhala films between them in the 1950s and 1960s. Premnath Moraes, S. Sivanandan and K. Gunaratnam are other pioneering Sri Lankan Tamil contributors to the Sinhala film industry.
One wonders why so many Tamil-speaking producers, directors and composers made films in Sinhala, and not in Tamil. The explanation is simple – the economics of the industry. South India produced a steady line of films in Tamil for the audiences in Ceylon. For Sri Lankan producers and filmmakers at the time, even when they themselves were Tamil-speaking, “this language issue” did not matter. Money was to be made with Sinhala audiences.
Even as individuals, it was easier to transcend ethnic and religious affiliations when it came to cinema. Mohideen Beig, a devout Muslim, was capable of surrendering to Buddha in his songs with utter sincerity. ‘Buddham Saranam Gachchami’, one of his popular devotional songs, is played at Vesak festivals every year: “to Buddha, my only refuge, I surrender”.
As individuals, as communities and as industries, we embraced diversity intuitively and subconsciously. In the 1950s there was a slow reversal of this configuration, where identity politics insidiously began to take over the island, and even seeping into the film industry. As in all other aspects, this spelt doom for the Sri Lankan film. The nationalization of cinema through the establishment of the National Film Corporation in the 1970s, brought in strict government control to an industry that flourished with freedom and creativity. The space for different communities to contribute to the industry shrank steadily.
The Legacy of Love and Hate
The film Asokamala was an early victim of this trend. One could argue that the barrage of shrill film reviews published in the dailies criticizing the film provide early specimens of what is known today as hate speech.
Asokamala (1947) is the Romeo Juliet of the island’s historic love stories. In its essence, the film is an allegory of the island. Produced by a Tamil (Gardiner), directed by a Sinhalese (Shantikumar Seneviratne), the film’s musical score was produced by a Muslim, Mohommed Ghouse, affectionately called Ghouse Master. The film introduced both Mohideen Beig (Muslim) and Amaradeva (Sinhalese) as playback singers. Indian songstress Bhagyarathi stepped in for G.S.B. Rani (Malay), who could not make it to the recordings at Central Studios, Coimbatore India. The film drew the best of Sri Lankan talent, from all its communities and its neighbors.
The theme of the film itself hinted at reconciliation between different communities. Prince Saliya, the son of King Dutugemunu, a celebrated heroic figure from the second century BCE, falls in love with a damsel from a marginal caste. He chooses love over power, and is willing to reconcile with the Tamil chieftains whom his father defeated in a great war, a central albeit controversial event in the island’s history. Released a year before the island gained independence from colonial rulers, the film was almost a prophetic missive highlighting the challenges and opportunities ahead. It went on to earn five times its financial investment and was replete with musical hits known across generations.
- 1962. Sound Recording by Ceylonese crew in South India
- Film pioneer Sir Chittampalam A. Gardiner
However, rising nationalist elements found the film unacceptable. Despite its many plus points, the film was severely criticized in newspapers such as Dinamina, Silumina, Sinhala Baudhdhya, Sinhala Balaya and Sarasavi Sandaresa to name a few.
‘Asokamala is a corruption of history, as it goes against its historical time period and its motherland. It is a story set in the ancient Buddhist capital of Anuradhapura, but nowhere in the film can you see Buddhist stupas, or Buddhist monks. In this film, Dutugemunu is a weak old man,’ a Silumina newspaper editorial (27 April, 1947) lashed out.
‘What we hear about the film currently being shown at the theaters in Colombo is that it hurls abuse and insults at the entire Sinhala race. No Sinhala person would remain silent when the greatest warrior and supreme Sinhala Buddhist ruler is portrayed as a weakling and coward in this film,’
clamored Sarasavi Sandaresa.
In the same editorial, the newspaper urged all Sinhalese Buddhists to boycott the film. In fact, it is amidst this outcry against Asokamala that the idea of establishing a national regulatory body for films was mooted. A love story became a locus of hatred.
This sinister trend for purity and Buddhist supremacy led to many catastrophes over the decades. Communities who once lived in close proximity, who shared neighborhoods and homes and memories became estranged, as seen in the story of Mr Dharmalingam. Cinemas like Rio, owned by minority communities were burnt down in riots.
In reflection, what is most surprising is how powerful stories – positive stories – are repressed through such trends. Today, we remain largely unaware that the first Sinhala film was produced by a Tamil. And hundreds of Sinhala songs were composed by Muslim musicians and sung by Muslims and Malays. We hail Rukamani Devi as the Queen of the Silver Screen, but forget that her real name was Daisy Rasammah Daniel and that she performed in all three languages.
These stories are recorded in black and white, in sound and visual and yet remain unacknowledged, forgotten and dismissed. Nationalism binds people through one story but also blinds people to many other narratives. The early days of Sri Lankan cinema present a host of stories that illustrate confluence. The sheer number of Tamil, Muslim, Bohra, Burgher, Malay, Colombo Chetty communities working together with Sinhalese for the cinematic industry is not just ‘a possibility’ but a reality that already existed. One only needs to read the credits of an old movie, and ask who is who.
These stories are parables on how harmony makes small things grow; and how the lack of it makes great things decay. Cinema created a space for people to not just coexist but collaborate. A sanctuary where people could transcend parochial identities, unleash their creative potential and find their own purpose and place in history. What made cinema a truly modern form of art, is not the technology, but that it brought together this multitude of people, talents, arts, sciences, commerce, and vision in its wake.
Likewise, the opportunity of becoming a modern democratic state lies in proactively focusing and celebrating this diversity and opting for the path of love, collaboration, appreciation and deep understanding as opposed to hate. Coexistence is not a passive state but an active, changing dynamic that requires constant effort.
It is said in the movies that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. Is this really true? Or are they distinctive paths we must choose from, individually and collectively, as we walk into our futures?
Features
Polarizing rhetoric greets America on its epochal anniversary
Democratic and progressive opinion in the US and the world over would likely have been further jolted by the divisive rhetoric blared forth by US President Donald Trump on no less an occasion than the 250th anniversary of the US Declaration of Independence from Britain. The world has been placed on notice that what it would be having in the main is aggravated polarization on multiple fronts during what’s left of the Trump tenure.
If the world was expecting positive moves by the Trump administration to bridge divisions, heal rifts and usher in a more harmonious international political order, this is very unlikely to be. Instead, in all probability we would be left with a far more ‘dangerous place to live in’.
Some of the more thought-provoking recent ‘takes’ from President Trump are : ‘A generation after we fought and won the cold war against the menace of communism, there is now a resurgence of the communist menace in our land, including from newcomers to our country who embrace ideas totally opposed to our way of life and our great success.’ ‘We will send them (immigrants) quickly away, and we will continue to build our country bigger and better than ever before.’ ‘We are going to give our country its identity back.’ ‘You can be loyal to Karl Marx or you can be loyal to America. You can be a communist or you can be a patriot. You cannot be both.’
Accordingly, what the world would have in increasing measure going forward are stepped-up attempts to consolidate a white supremacist administration in the US accompanied by a suppression of ethnic, religious and cultural minorities at home along with renewed attempts to spread and consolidate US hegemonism world wide.
The latter project would mainly translate into US military interventions abroad of the Venezuelan type and a persistence if not a resurgence of identity based conflicts globally. Violent reactions internationally to what are seen as attempts by the US to bring recalcitrant sections in particularly the South under white supremacist control will provide the basis for the steadfast presence and spiking of identity politics globally.
Moreover, the path has been paved for stepped-up ethnic, religious and cultural disharmony within the US. A united state is far from possible, given this backdrop. Put simply, it would be a question of steeper political polarization at home and abroad.
The persistent, widespread support for the hard line Islamic regime in Iran locally and globally should serve as an eye-opener for the political decision-makers of the US. Huge crowds at the funerals of Iran’s political leaders could very well be state-orchestrated but they are a pointer to the fact that political Islam is far from on the decline. To the extent to which this is so, the phenomenon could be a hurdle in the path of a stridently expansionist US.
Looking back, it was the consolidation of the Islamic regime in Iran in the late seventies of the last century that, besides proving a major challenge to the unfettered global power expansion of the US and its Western allies, provided the motive force as it were for the proliferation of Islam-based identity politics in particularly the South. This continues to be so.
Going forward, the US would need to figure out how best it could manage the persistent presence of Islamic fundamentalism world wide, and for that matter other forms of identity politics, without drastically losing its global power and influence.
The recent successful challenge by Iran to the US’ efforts to exercise its diktat in West Asia should prove an ‘eye-opener’. In these confrontations both sides were bloodied but Iran proved that it could successfully take on the US militarily. The inference for the US ought to be that projecting its military might in the Middle East in a no-holds-barred fashion would not prove easy.
Arising from the foregoing a foremost policy challenge for the US would be to curb Iranian military power while avoiding another major military confrontation with the Islamic state that would cost the US and the world dearly in particularly economic and material terms. The US would have no choice but to persist with the often flagging West Asian peace effort and to render it fully workable.
Ukraine presents the US with another formidable challenge. As is known, Ukraine is proving no easy ‘push-over’ for Russia, but it is badly in need of more sophisticated Western arms, particularly effective air defense systems, to fully neutralize the Russian invasion. What would the US choose to do; go to Ukraine’s assistance fully or opt not to ruffle and antagonize the Putin regime, with which it is on some cordial terms?
A negotiated solution is best in Ukraine and the Trump administration would do well not to lose sight of this ideal but Russia too should see the need for a diplomatic solution if it is to salvage itself from its military stalemate in Ukraine. The US needs to try being a peace mediator in the latter theatre but if the Russian political leadership fails to opt for peace the US would have no choice but to join the rest of NATO and Europe in continuing to arm Ukraine.
The US would need to take the latter course if the ‘world’s mightiest democracy’ is to remain committed to its founding ideals. If President Trump fails to meet this challenge he would prove that he is nothing more than an ‘empty rhetorician’.
However, it should not come as a surprise to the world if Trump chooses not to strongly back the rest of the West on Ukraine. Domestic and foreign policy are closely intertwined. Since the Trump administration is committed to building a white supremacist state at home, democratic development worldwide has been of the least importance to it.
The Trump administration’s strong affinities to white jingoism would increasingly compel it to opt for a policy of international isolationism. As a result Ukraine could prove unimportant for the US going forward.
Consequently, US-Western Europe friction in particular is only likely to intensify in the days ahead. Coupled with the contentious issues growing out of the persistence of identity politics, the Trump administration’s far-sightedness in managing foreign policy issues would be tested to the fullest. Whether the world would have comparative peace or continued blood-letting would depend crucially on such judiciousness.
Features
Beyond concrete: Sunela Jayewardene urges Sri Lanka to rediscover an ancient wisdom for a planet in peril
It was more than a lecture on architecture. It was a challenge to rethink civilisation itself.
Standing before a packed audience at Dilmah by Genesis in Maligawatte, internationally acclaimed environmental architect, author and conservationist Sunela Jayewardene delivered a keynote that transcended blueprints, buildings and urban planning.
Instead, she invited her listeners on an intellectual journey into Sri Lanka’s ancient past, arguing that the answers to some of the world’s gravest environmental crises may already exist within the island’s forgotten ecological wisdom.
Her address, titled “Beyond Concrete: Architecture for the Coexistence of Species,” was at once philosophical, historical and deeply practical. It questioned humanity’s obsession with dominating nature and called for a return to a design ethic rooted in respect, restraint and coexistence.
“The road is actually very simple,” Jayewardene said. “We have simply forgotten it.”
That observation became the defining thread of an afternoon that challenged conventional thinking about architecture and development.
According to Jayewardene, modern society has inherited a worldview shaped largely by colonial values that placed human needs above those of every other living organism.
“Our value system was turned on its head,” she observed. “We accepted a Western way of looking at nature without questioning it. Today we can clearly see the consequences. The world is in crisis. Species are in crisis. Our lifestyles are in crisis.”
She was careful not to romanticise the past, nor was she dismissive of modern science. Instead, she argued that Sri Lanka’s pre-colonial civilisation possessed a sophisticated environmental philosophy that modern planners and architects have largely ignored.
For Jayewardene, environmental architecture is not about fashionable sustainability slogans or cosmetic landscaping.
It begins with humility.
It begins by recognising that humans are only one species among millions sharing the same landscape.
“The built environment should not exist in opposition to nature,” she said. “It should become part of nature.”
One of the most captivating moments of her presentation came when she introduced her own research into the island’s ancient sacred geography.
Using digital mapping and satellite imagery, Jayewardene demonstrated the remarkable alignment of Sri Lanka’s four original Saman Devalayas, whose axes converge on Sri Pada, historically known as Samanthakuta.
The extraordinary precision of these alignments, she argued, raises profound questions about the scientific and surveying capabilities of ancient Sri Lankan civilisation.
“What kind of technology enabled them to achieve this?” she asked the audience.
Her purpose was not to offer speculative answers but to challenge deeply ingrained assumptions that ancient societies lacked scientific sophistication.
“We often underestimate what our ancestors knew,” she said. “Yet the evidence around us tells a very different story.”
That forgotten knowledge, she argued, extended well beyond engineering.
It shaped an entire philosophy of living with the landscape rather than imposing human will upon it.
Displaying photographs from archaeological sites including Ritigala, ancient monasteries and rock pavilions hidden within Sri Lanka’s forests, Jayewardene illustrated how builders carved steps around natural boulders, integrated structures into existing rock formations and preserved the contours of the land.
Modern construction, she suggested, would almost certainly have bulldozed those landscapes into submission.
“Our ancestors honoured the land,” she said. “They accepted the landscape instead of trying to conquer it.”
For Jayewardene, that principle remains the foundation of every project she undertakes.
She described environmental architecture as an exercise in listening rather than commanding.
Every site, she explained, possesses its own identity, ecological history and natural rhythm.
The responsibility of the architect is to understand that identity before attempting to intervene.
“The land tells you what it wants to become,” she said.
Throughout the presentation, one word repeatedly surfaced—context.
Without understanding context, she argued, architecture becomes little more than sculpture.
Good design cannot be copied indiscriminately from one country to another or even from one district to another.
Climate differs.
Rainfall differs.
Vegetation differs.
Wildlife differs.
Culture differs.
Even the stories associated with landscapes differ.
All of these, Jayewardene insisted, must shape architecture.
“When I speak about inhabitants, I don’t mean only human beings,” she explained.
“The birds, insects, reptiles, mammals, trees and every living organism already occupying that land must become part of the design equation.”
This broader understanding forms the basis of what she describes as non-human-centred design—an approach that rejects the notion that cities exist exclusively for people.
Instead, landscapes should provide refuge for biodiversity while simultaneously serving human communities.
It is an idea that resonates strongly at a time when rapid urbanisation continues to erode habitats across Sri Lanka.
Jayewardene also challenged prevailing attitudes towards development itself.
Too often, she argued, “development” has become synonymous with replacing natural systems by concrete infrastructure.
She questioned whether flattening hillsides, redirecting streams and clearing vegetation can genuinely be described as progress.
In her view, genuine development should first ask what ecological value already exists before deciding what should be built.
One of the simplest yet most profound examples she offered concerned water.
“I always say it is acceptable to interrupt water,” she remarked. “But never disrupt it.”
That distinction reflects an ecological understanding often absent from conventional engineering.
Natural drainage systems, she warned, perform countless functions that remain invisible until they are damaged.
Floods, soil erosion, biodiversity decline and even changes in local climate frequently follow.
“We disrupt far more than water,” she said. “We disrupt entire ecological relationships.”
Equally significant was her distinction between degraded brownfield sites and relatively untouched greenfield landscapes.
Brownfield sites require ecological restoration, rehabilitation and renewal.
Greenfield sites demand restraint.
Minimal intervention, she argued, is often the highest form of environmental design.
The keynote found an appropriate setting within Dilmah Conservation’s own efforts to restore degraded urban landscapes.
Earlier in the programme, Rishan Sampath of Dilmah Conservation outlined the organisation’s transformation of an abandoned industrial property in Moratuwa into a flourishing urban forest containing over 300 tree species and more than 1,000 individual plants.
Scientific studies conducted within the restored forest have already demonstrated improvements in air quality compared with adjoining urban roads, providing measurable evidence that biodiversity restoration can improve city life.
For Jayewardene, such initiatives represent far more than beautification projects.
They demonstrate that ecological restoration can become a guiding philosophy for future urban planning.
Her address ultimately became a call to rethink humanity’s place within nature.
Architecture, she argued, should no longer celebrate domination over landscapes.
It should celebrate coexistence.
Every building should strengthen biodiversity.
Every development should restore ecological balance.
Every designer should ask not merely how a project serves people, but how it serves life itself.
As the audience left the hall, they carried with them more than architectural ideas.
They carried a challenge
To question inherited assumptions.
To rediscover indigenous ecological wisdom.
And to recognise that Sri Lanka’s greatest contribution to global sustainability may not lie in importing new environmental models, but in rediscovering the timeless principles embedded within its own civilisation.
For Sunela Jayewardene, the future will not be secured by building more impressive skylines.
It will be secured when humanity learns once again to build gently, intelligently and respectfully—allowing architecture to become not an act of conquest, but an expression of coexistence.
By Ifham Nizam
Features
Colombia’s “back-to-back queen”
Beyond modelling, Colombia’s Katherine Castaño, who captured the crown at the Top Model of the World 2026, in Egypt, is also a TV host, entrepreneur and social media influencer.
She’s based in Miami, Florida right now — a hub for fashion and influencer work — a city she calls home base, while representing Colombia on the world stage.
Her Miami base gives her access to fashion, entertainment, and business networks, while her title keeps Colombia front and centre in the global modelling conversation.
Off the runway, she says she enjoys singing, playing the piano, and tennis.
Katherine didn’t make the trip to Egypt as a newcomer. She’s built a strong international portfolio before winning the crown.
In fact, her résumé reads like a fashion passport: Colombia Moda, New York Fashion Week, Miami Swim Week, Miami Fashion Week, Nicaragua Diseña, IXEL Moda, and Mercedes-Benz San José.
On June 8, 2026, Katherine Castaño was crowned by outgoing winner Natalia Garizabal Vera, also of Colombia. That gave Colombia a historic back-to-back victory — the first time any country has done it in the competition’s history, and Colombia’s 4th win overall.
As Top Model of the World 2026, Katherine’s reign is centred on elevating her profile as a model, influencer, and entrepreneur.

She’s built a personal brand around beauty, ambition, style, and professionalism, with strong reach across fashion, social media, and business.
As titleholder, she’s now the face of the pageant’s international fashion platform, representing Colombia globally, while based out of Miami.
Ahead of the competition she was clear about the stakes: “This is bigger than me. This is for my country. This is for the story I’m here to write… And I’m not going quietly… we’re going for that back to back.”
As the reigning titleholder, Katherine Castaño’s role extends far beyond the sash. She’s using the platform to grow her brand as a model, influencer, and entrepreneur rooted in “beauty, ambition, style, and professionalism”.
She will also be doing runway shows, photoshoots, brand appearances, and fashion events.
Sri Lanka’s representative at this pageant was NetalieWithanage.
-
News4 days agoSingapore-based Buddhist monk marks nearly four decades of humanitarian service
-
News6 days agoCIABOC to question Harak Kata on Rs. 200 mn bribery allegation
-
News5 days agoFreedom 250: US Embassy celebrates America’s 250th Independence Day through magic of American cinema
-
News6 days agoSLAF conducts successful rescue mission under UN command in Central African Republic
-
News3 days agoAI concerned over proposed SL military deployment in Haiti
-
Business6 days ago‘Dialog Air Fibre powers a new era of Ultra Fast Home WiFi’
-
News6 days agoUNEP support pledged to strengthen Sri Lanka’s Environmental Priorities
-
Features4 days agoThe NPP’s New Challenge: Balancing Easter Lawfare and Economic Welfare


